


Water, Stars, & Beginnings

by forestofmyown



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Body Positivity, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Other, Reader-Insert, Romance, Swimming, chubby character, planetarium - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9286550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestofmyown/pseuds/forestofmyown
Summary: So you're crushing on the local pirate captain--who isn't?  You stumble upon him having what looks like a bad day, having broken up with Emma again, and decide to do your best to cheer him up.  To your surprise, it might just turn into more.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Requested Chubby!Reader.
> 
> Originally posted at: http://imaginingmyforest.tumblr.com/

Daily life in Storybrooke is perfectly ordinary--so long as you stay far, far away from Granny’s Dinner, Gold’s Pawnshop, and the Police Station, as well as the inhabitants of said places. Best not to visit City Hall, either. Heaven forbid you need the Mayor for anything. 

But Storybrooke, itself, is still a wonderful place. It may be a small town, but that doesn’t mean you can’t avoid the terrors of life as a storybook character trapped in Maine if you play your cards right.

You live a nice, simple, enjoyable life. It is, after all, picturesque when someone or something isn’t trying to destroy it. You have a lovely home on the outskirts, away from most of the action, all to yourself. It’s surrounded by woodlands on one side, the sea on the other.

You have a job that you like and pays the bills. You have friends, you have a car, you have a library membership you’ve stopped using, and you have a night out from time to time, just to treat yourself.

There’s absolutely no need, then, for you to ruin this little slice of heaven you call home. But you’re walking along the docks, eyeing the boats as you pass, doing just that. Tempting fate, really. Bad things happen at the docks, after all. 

You’re even debating on having lunch at Granny’s. That’s practically a death wish in this town.

But what’s really going to get you killed is the why behind these new decisions you’re making. And that why is just where you’d hoped he’d be.

Killian Jones sits perched on the edge of one of the docks, bare feet dangling out over the water. Most of his gear is piled at his side. The man himself is dressed only in his black undershirt and matching pants, soaking wet from head to toe.

You approach slowly, trying to gauge his mood. Killian has a reputation, after all, and you’d seen it in action a time or two.

Taking the chance, you lightly ask, “Good day for a swim?”

He smiles, just a bit, and shakes his head. “Not really. Bloody freezing.”

“And yet.” You stop beside him, trying to act casual by staring out at the water and not at him. It’s difficult; he’s a beautiful man.

“So I fancied a bit of a swim despite the weather. What business is it of yours?”

He sounds more exasperated than anything, and you take it as a sign to continue.

“Wanna talk about it?” By “it,” you mean Emma. Nothing gets Killian down like their little spats. The two are famous around town, their on-again-off-again romance a thing of gossip. Obviously, you’ve caught him on an off-again day.

He sighs. “Not really.”

“Okay.” Before sense can catch up with you, you take a quick step forward and leap off the edge of the dock. You make a resounding splash when you hit the water, and the cold instantly whips through you.

You break the surface gasping. “You weren’t kidding! It’s cold!”

“I told you!” Killian’s already up on one knee, leaning over and reaching out for you. “What on earth were you thinking, jumping in like that?”

You grab hold of his hand and let him pull you in until you can reach the edge of the dock again. “I f-fancied a s-swim.”

You shoot him a sopping wet grin before attempting to climb up. You’re torso flops over onto the boards, but your leg doesn’t quite reach and instead flails in midair. Killian grabs you under your arms and, rather gently, considering your size, pulls you up the rest of the way, careful to avoid scraping you across the splintered wood. 

“Thanks.” You grin, and he just shakes his head.

“Fancied a swim, eh?” His smile is slow to spread, but it goes right to his eyes. “Well then, we’re just two of a kind, now aren’t we?”

Despite your chattering teeth, you couldn’t be happier. Your hands go to your arms to rub them for warmth, and you suddenly realize that your clothes are sticking to your skin in all the right places. They hug your chubby frame, emphasizing every curve, every roll, all the roundness of your body.

You are not the only one who’s noticed.

Killian’s brows shoot up as his eyes roam you before meeting your gaze again. The amusement remains, but they appear darker now. The shiver that passes through you has nothing to do with the cold.

Your first instinct is to pull the wet fabric away. The next thought you have says leave it and let him look. You’ve wanted his attention for ages, why not enjoy it while you have it? It certainly doesn’t seem as though he dislikes the view, a thought that sends a flush of fire right through you.

So you pretend to notice neither the clothing nor Killian’s appraisal. 

“Since you picked the swim, do I get to decide the next item on the agenda?” You shoot him a coy look, pulling your chin in.

“We have an agenda?” His brows raise, his smile not wavering. He does not look opposed to this development.

“Two of a kind.” You repeat his words, hoping to reel him in.

Hands on his hips, he dips in a slight bow. “As you say.”

“Have you been to the planetarium?” 

“What, pray tell, is a planetarium?”

This is going better than you could ever have expected. The delight must show on your face, because Killian smiles a crooked smile, staring curiously. 

You start walking past him. Throwing a grin over your shoulder, you call out, “Come on, then.”

You emphasize the beckoning with a motion of your hand. 

Scooping up his discarded gear quickly, he jogs after you.

The walk, though a bit on the long side, does little to dry either of you. The weather isn’t warm enough for that, so you both drip as you march along the road to the lesser-attacked side of town. Despite your sopping wet state, you aren’t uncomfortable. The company is too good for that.

The two of you chat amiably as you make your way. It’s nice. And Killian keeps pace with you, which you know is much slower than most. He doesn’t mention it, not even when you need a break every now and again because you’re winded.

The planetarium is rather well taken care of, though understaffed. Educational opportunities are not something Regina skimps on in funds when her own son attends school here. Despite this, the planetarium isn’t used often. The occasional field trip is about all the business they get.

So it’s a skeleton crew that greets you, shakes their heads at your wet state, and supplies you with towels, telling you not to touch anything. You and Killian both smirk. No one even bats an eye at the oddness of Storybrooke anymore, and certainly no one is going to tell the hook-handed pirate he can’t enter a building soaked to the bone. You’re left to wander at your own discretion.

And wander you do, because Killian is fascinated. The museum section displays the history of the stars, of space exploration, mythology and technology side by side, and he takes it in with wonder. He has to stop at every display, wide-eyed like a child, little scoffs of disbelief and exclamations of surprise and pride at every caption. 

“This is amazing! Here, look at this--” He grabs your hand, pulling you along to a section you’ve seen a hundred times. It doesn’t matter. Everything is new to you through Killian’s eyes, and you let him gush about it like an over enthused tour guide. 

He never lets go of your hand.

The section on sea navigation obviously becomes his favorite. He’s been to different worlds, seen different constellations, and loves discovering the new ones here, reading about how they shift above you with the seasons, memorizing old sailors’ tales and theories. 

You lead him into the theater last, directing him to the center of the room. He sits, and you eye the chair next to him with sudden trepidation before slowly lowering yourself into it.

The armrests on either side stop you. Your hips are caught on top of them, butt hovering above the actual seat cushion with no way down. Heat shoots up your neck and spreads across your face. You try to act casual as you stand back up, but you can’t help but glance Killian’s way.

He’s eyeing the chair with distaste. “Those who designed these seats obviously did not know that people come in much more wealthy sizes. How very small minded. After all, ‘variety is the spice of life.’”

He smiles a toothy grin and pats his lap.

You stare. “You can’t be serious.”

His eyebrows rise. “Oh, but I am. Please.”

The lights go out. With the motivation of “he can’t see how embarrassed I am” and “have to hurry, it’s starting” you carefully position yourself across one armrest and his lap. It’s not uncomfortable, and Killian takes the opportunity to wrap one arm around you and take your other hand in his.

His eyes are on you until the ceiling starts to sparkle to life overhead. His jaw drops and his hand tightens around yours. The narration plays as the electric stars rotate slowly, and neither of you says a word as Killian soaks it all in. It talks about things you’re certain Killian already read in the exhibits before coming in, but that doesn’t seem to dampen his wonder. Certain sections of the ceiling dim or brighten or change colors to go along with what’s being said, about constellations or the life cycle of stars or where mankind has been.

He’s absolutely captivated. And, you’re almost certain, he hasn’t thought of Emma the entire time you’ve been here.

When the narration stops and the lights come back on, neither of you move. Killian seems glued to the spot, still lost in everything that has happened, all that he has experienced and learned in one afternoon. You simply wait, watching his face sift through all the different emotions with fascination. 

He is truly a beautiful man. You are so, so glad you could give him this.

“That was … ” He shakes his head, still staring up. “This has been … amazing.” 

He looks to you, and his face is alight with a smile so big it makes you suck in a breath. 

“I knew this place--this town, this world--was full of wonderful things, strange things, but … it has all seemed convenient, yes, but not … beautiful. This has been truly extraordinary.”

He rubs his fingers against your skin, massaging your hand in his. His eyes are locked with yours in the same way they had been on all the exhibits, on those things that had so captivated him. You can’t even breathe under that gaze.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He sounds as breathless as you feel, and you can’t tell if your heart is beating too fast to tell or has stopped altogether. “Thank you for this. You have truly turned around a day I had thought to be an utter disaster, and made it one I will never forget, and never be able to think of without a smile. Nor, I expect, will I ever be able to think of you without one, either.”

He raises your hand up, letting his thumb slide gently across the top, leaving a trail of tingles in its wake. Never taking his eyes from yours, he leans forward just a tiny bit, and places his lips to your fingers.

“There is no way anything I plan can compare, but I will still do my very best upon our next excursion. Tell me of your interests, so that I may cater to you as you have to me.”

Next excursion? Tell him about your interests? Cater to you? 

He wants to go out with you again? To know more about you? Spoil you?

Maybe you’re thinking too much into this.

But he’s still watching you with those captivated eyes. “I will make it an all day affair. How soon are you free? I do not wish to waste a moment without your company.”

Maybe you’re not.


End file.
